


What Could Go Wrong? A Story of Smugglers and Dumbasses

by Sam_Sandwich



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: A series of fuck ups really, Action/Adventure, Everything That Can Go Wrong Will Go Wrong, Other, Self-Indulgent, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Smuggling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-12-21 05:37:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21069761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sam_Sandwich/pseuds/Sam_Sandwich
Summary: Selvys is a well seasoned, well versed smuggler. Every year or two they take the trek from Raven Rock to Anvil, where they smuggle the goods to Windhelm, get paid handsomely, and wait around for the next letter to come through. They've never taken a partner, preferring to work alone, but what happens when one companion met by chance turns to 5 companions, and a simple smuggling job turns into a quest that may cost them their lives?





	What Could Go Wrong? A Story of Smugglers and Dumbasses

**Author's Note:**

  * For [whatsacleverusername](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatsacleverusername/gifts), [D_cassidy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/D_cassidy/gifts).

It started on a Mundas eve, where the small tavern in Riverwood was crowded with company and warm in hearth. A young bard was leisurely playing his lute, and Selvys was starting to get used to the taste of mead again after drinking matze at the tavern every night. 

Though Selvys had little reason to be so reclusive in Skyrim, they tried to keep their head down and nose in a book as much as possible as to not get attached to the place. Besides, dunmer weren’t especially welcome in the eastern side of Skyrim, nor most small villages with hearty nord men ready to harass any mer on sight. They thanked Ayem that this was their last night in Skyrim. The next morning they’d set out for Whiterun, grab the cheapest carriage ride to Falkreath, and make the trek through the Pale Pass, where another job could-

Their thoughts were interrupted by a weight on the other side of the bench, creaking to make itself known, and an elbow in the peripheral vision of eyes formerly focused on a book. 

“Not many dunmer in riverwood,” purred a sing song voice. Selvys was suddenly very aware of the absence of the music that previously filled the tavern. They were dealing with a bard. “Come here often?”

“No, leaving tomorrow,” Selvys answered bluntly, hoping that the conversation would be dropped at their curt tone.

“Oh? Where are you headed?” The bard had a hopeful gleam in his eye, like a child seeing an adventurer come into town, only to get lectured by their father that he’d have to take over the family business. Come to think of it, that’s probably not far off from most bard’s childhoods. 

Selvys knew where this was going, he wanted to accompany this mysterious traveler just passing through a small tavern in a small town, to go on some grand adventure, much grander than playing the lute for drunks every night. They didn't want a partner though, especially not this particular perky bard. “Nowhere too exciting, just for business.”

“Business? Do tell,” the bard asked flirtatiously. This boy didn’t seem to let up. Telling him couldn’t hurt right? It’s not like he was on any grand quest.

“If you must know, I’m headed to Anvil to-” Selvys trailed off. They can’t just say they were smuggling illegal goods could they? “Meet an old friend” they decided. 

The bard quirked an eyebrow, moving a lock of dirty blond hair from his eyes. “Meeting an old friend is something you consider business?” Should’ve known that wouldn’t land. “How about you tell me what you’re really doing in Cyrodiil.” The way he said it implied “what are we doing.”

Cursing under his breath, about to give this bard a stern speech about minding his own business, Selvys’ train of thought was derailed at the unmistakable sound of a dagger unsheathing across the room, a blade readied, pointed towards another patron’s throat. If looks could kill, the burly Nord would’ve died from the pointed glare from the tavern’s owner, rather than the sharp steel dagger quickly slicing through the soft tissue of his throat, spraying deep red blood across the table, staining hide armor and mixing with mead in a tankard. 

There was a stunned, eerily still silence as the sparse crowd watched this man cough and sputter on his last breaths. The thump of his body hitting the floor caused the patrons to jump into startled action, reaching for whatever weapon they concealed in their sleeves or boots and readying themselves to enact justice. In a town without a regular guard patrol, every man woman and child had to be ready to defend themselves. Selvys palmed their side for their holster, finding their ebony blade still fit in their shaking hands perfectly after all these years. The bard quickly ejected decorative silver daggers from his sleeves, gripping them with white knuckles. While everyone scrambled for safety, whether in a blade or a hiding place, 6 men across the bar stood from their spots and lunged at anyone nearest to them. 

Selvys happened to be one such target, narrowly dodging a mace aimed for their head, thankful the loud crunch behind them was the wood of the table and not their skull. They took a few haphazard jabs at the bandit in front of him, finding the dagger to do little against the thick armor covering his chest, barely dodging another swing from the man, Selvys managed to get a deep cut across the man’s cheek. As he stopped to process the blood dripping down into his mouth, a few well placed jabs to the neck left him dead. 

Meanwhile the bard fended off a man with a blunt sword more suited for beating than slashing with. The bard’s fighting style matched his flamboyant personality, dodging and striking as if it were an intricate dance practiced countless times before, and the body now limp at his feet was his seasoned dance partner. His silver blade glimmered in the gentle light of the nearby fireplace, blood staining his floral embroidered vest. The only way one could tell he wasn’t an experienced killer was the way he paused to stare at the man lying on the floor before setting his jaw and turning to the next attacker. 

The battle was short, but the tavern looked like a civil war had broken out, and at the end 5 bandits lay dead, one had run in the chaos, and two villagers lay slumped over tables where they were just a few minutes ago happily drinking. Selvys surveyed the carnage with a confused gaze. Was Skyrim always this violent? Of course there were bandits and thieves looking to cause trouble in every province of every country, but in such a small town? They shook off the thought it could’ve been a targeted attack against them. They’d never been caught after all. 

The bard was staring down at the bodies again, eyeing the coin purses tucked at their sides, hands shakily putting his dagger back in his puffy sleeves, now stained a dark red. He turned to Selvys with a strange gleam in his eye. It was a gleam Selvys recognized, the simultaneous fear of one’s own strength, the trauma of taking a life, and the exhilaration of it all, knowing that you’d do it again given the right circumstances, and the need to roam, to explore the vast countryside of the place you’ve lived your whole life but barely seen. 

His mouth opened and closed a couple of times, trying to form a sentence he felt was performative enough. He then shakily smirked, asking “So, what business are we getting into?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank y'all so much for reading!!! I made this because I thought it would be fun to imagine me and my friends in the Elder Scrolls universe, and guess what, I thought right. Some of the people these characters are based off of are on this site, so I've gifted this to them. You should 10000% check them out (they're much better writers than me frankly). Also I know the bar fight makes no sense I wrote that in so I could turn it in for a school project, and just felt like it wrapped up nicely. Just take it as bandits being bandits for bandits sake


End file.
